Chapter 17: Waterbending

Aang moved with the ebb and flow of the water, his body mirroring the fluid motions of the Southern Water Tribe's master.

The water rippled around him in a rhythmic dance, shaping itself to his will, but never quite holding its form as it should. His stance wavered, his arms faltered, and when he tried to push forward with a surge of water, the liquid collapsed into a harmless splash at his feet.

The waterbending master watching him frowned.

"Again," the older man instructed, his voice calm but firm, "Focus, Aang. Water is not forced; it is guided. Let it move through you, not against you."

Aang clenched his jaw and raised his hands once more, but in his mind, the past clawed at him.

Every drop of water twisted into something else, visions of faces burned into his memory. Monk Gyatso, smiling warmly before the flames consumed him. The younger airbenders who had played with him in the temple courtyards, their laughter now echoes in the void of his thoughts.

 The wind had not saved them.

Neither had he.

And then he saw Kalsang. His heart clenched painfully at the image; his mentor, his friend, his brother in all but blood. But the Kalsang in his mind was not the man he had known. No, this was someone else, someone whose face was twisted in grief and rage, whose hands moved not to defend but to strike.

Aang saw the air swirl and compress, not to evade but to kill, he saw firebenders falling to the ground with eyes frozen in shock, bodies twisted unnaturally. The once peaceful winds became weapons, sharper than steel.

"No!" Aang gasped, stumbling back as the vision overtook him. His chest heaved, his hands trembled, and the water he had been bending crashed down uselessly.

The master sighed. "That is enough for today."

Aang barely heard him. His vision blurred, his legs weak beneath him as he turned and hurried out of the training space, his breath coming fast and ragged. He wasn't sure where he was going; only that he needed air, that he needed to escape the weight in his chest pressing down on him like a boulder.

But before he could take another step, the world shifted.

The icy halls of the Southern Water Tribe melted away, replaced by something vast, ethereal. The wind around him felt weightless, the air heavy with something unseen yet deeply present.

The sky was not the sky, but a canvas of swirling blues and silvers, distant shapes moving through the mist like lingering memories.

The Spirit World.

Aang froze. He had been here before, yet something about this time felt different… deeper. And then, from the mist, figures began to emerge, each radiating an aura of familiarity. The past Avatars. Roku, Kyoshi, Kuruk, Yangchen; all of them and more, their presence strong, unwavering, their eyes filled with the weight of countless lives and experiences.

"Aang," Roku was the first to speak, his voice steady, carrying the wisdom of ages, "You are troubled."

Aang swallowed hard, his fingers curling into fists, "How could I not be?"

His voice cracked as he took a step forward, "I ran. I abandoned my people. If I had stayed… if I had fought… maybe…" his breath hitched, and he squeezed his eyes shut, "Maybe they wouldn't all be gone."

Yangchen, the airbending Avatar before him, stepped forward, her expression soft yet firm, "Guilt is a burden heavier than any mountain," she said, "But it is a weight that does not change the past. Only the future."

Aang's shoulders trembled, "I see him," he whispered, "Kalsang. He's… different now. I feel it. I see him killing people."

He looked up, his storm-grey eyes pleading, "That's not what airbenders are supposed to do. That's not who we are," Kyoshi's voice cut through the silence, sharp and unwavering, "And yet, survival sometimes forces us to be what we were never meant to become."

Aang flinched at her words.

Kuruk sighed, crossing his arms, "War is cruel, kid. And it changes people. But tell me… if Kalsang is doing what you fear, then what are you going to do about it?"

Aang hesitated.

Kyoshi's golden eyes bore into him, "You are the Avatar. You have the power to choose a different path. You cannot let fear of the past dictate the future."

"But how?" Aang asked, his voice barely above a whisper, "I can't just forget. I can't just… move on like nothing happened."

Roku stepped forward, placing a firm hand on Aang's shoulder, "You do not forget, Aang. But you must learn to let go."

Aang shook his head, tears burning in his eyes, "How?"

Yangchen knelt before him, her presence warm yet commanding, "By accepting that grief does not make you weak. That anger does not make you evil. And that your duty as the Avatar is not to erase pain; but to rise above it."

The mist around them swirled, a quiet hum filling the air. Aang felt something shift deep inside him, an understanding settling within his heart. The pain would never leave him. But it did not have to control him.

Slowly, he breathed in. And for the first time in what felt like forever, he let it go.

And when he opened his eyes again, he was back in the Southern Water Tribe. The morning sun cast a pale glow on the icy walls of his room.

His breathing was steady. His mind was clearer. He would master waterbending. He would master himself.

And then, when the time came… he would find Kalsang.